Dinner Revelations
by varjaks
Summary: John has dinner with Molly, and he finds out just how much the Fall has changed things between the consulting detective and the pathologist. On the other hand, Sherlock is not amused even if it is his own damn fault. [post-TRF oneshot]


A/N: I've mentioned how I'm crap at titles, yes? Much thanks again to J, the most enabling enabler, for helping me conceptualize bits of this. Jealous Sherlock has always been one of my favorites so it was good to have a go at writing him.

Disclaimer: Still not bffs with Molly so I guess I still don't own anything. _Sigh._

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"I know we made plans, but I swear I'll make it up to you, Christine." John bit his tongue but the damage was done. The line went silent before she_—Joanne—_ended the call.

_Definitely not good,_ John thought.

He stepped through the doors of the lab just in time to see a different disaster unfolding. Sherlock, the tit, was hunched over a microscope while Molly frowned beside him.

"Sherlock, you know tonight's the last night of the exhibit," Molly pressed as she gripped the mug of coffee in her hands.

"Which is why I don't understand your need to tell me this." Sherlock replaced the slide he'd been staring at with another. His hands adjusted the settings on the side of the instrument but didn't look up from the eyepiece. "The tickets are paid for so you can still attend, Molly. It would've been interesting to go and see all their mistakes for myself, but I'm sure your notes will be sufficient."

Molly glared at the consulting detective and her mouth set into a hard line. John felt his eyebrows rise at that. Even a year after Sherlock's return and learning about the pathologist's role in the Fall, the change from shy Molly to the one that stood there ready to deliver some choice words to Sherlock still left him reeling.

"What's this now?" John asked as he tucked away his mobile.

"There's been an unexpected change in the results of this experiment that must be catalogued," Sherlock said. He replaced the slide again.

"Yes, and now I'm going to this exhibit alone." Molly added hotly and passed John a brochure. He felt his brows move higher as he read the details of a private medical exhibit that required all twenty of tonight's attendees ("limited seating" apparently) to come dressed in their formal wear.

_Is this Sherlock's idea of a date?_

The thought caught him by surprise. John looked at Sherlock curiously before he faced Molly. "I could go with you if you want."

"Really?" Molly's high-pitched voice was almost enough to drown out the scraping of Sherlock's chair behind them. She smiled at John and moved closer to point out more things in the brochure. "It says we're allowed to go through the exhibit for two hours but we have to wait for everyone to finish their dinner first."

"We're having dinner?" John bit his cheek and barely stopped himself from looking at Sherlock.

"Yes, it was all paid for with the tickets. A bit strange considering it's an exhibit, isn't it?"

"What happened to _dinner_ with your girlfriend?" Sherlock cut in. As John studied the way the consulting detective glared down the microscope, he wondered when the night's objective shifted from studying samples to breaking glass slides using sheer will.

"It didn't work out with with Joanne." Before a deduction could be made about his last call, John looked back at Molly and smiled. "So, what time should I pick you up?"

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"That was interesting," John laughed as he shook his head. Their cab sped through the empty streets, quickly bringing them back into London. "It was definitely something else."

"Not the worst I've been to." Molly saw the surprise on John's face and smiled nervously. "We got to eat and at least all the corpses tonight were part of the exhibit. There was one time when a guests died and Sherlock figured out that she was the latest victim of a serial killer."

"Ah, you and Sherlock have gone to a couple then?" John asked lightly. His earlier thought about tonight possibly being a date between the two refused to leave his mind. He knew something had changed between Sherlock and Molly, but he hadn't really stopped to consider the extent of it. John was suddenly curious about the increasing number of times he'd heard his roommate arrive in 221B just before dawn.

Molly flushed until her face almost matched her scarlet dress. "Those types of exhibits are more common than you'd think," she answered just as the cab stopped outside her apartment block.

John told the driver to wait before he walked Molly to her front door. "Thanks for letting me join you tonight, Molly. Really, I had a great time"

"I'm glad to hear that." Her redness of her cheeks lightened as they stood outside in the November chill. "I should also thank you for coming with me. It was different going with someone who didn't insult the other guests."

They exchanged knowing looks and simultaneously thought of the man they left behind in St. Bart's earlier that evening.

"I can't even imagine the mess waiting for me tomorrow." Molly shook her head but the smile refused to budge.

"Goodnight, Molly." They both stepped forward to hug when the door suddenly opened. Yellow light blinded them as it flooded the steps where they still stood facing each other.

"John, Molly," Sherlock greeted them coolly. Even through the heavy blinking, John was surprised to recognize the ratty pyjamas and the silky blue robe that was always left open. "Did you both have a lovely evening? Enjoyed your _dinner?" _

"In fact, we did." Molly dropped a kiss on John's cheek and moved past the door. Ignoring the disbelieving look on Sherlock's face, she pulled him back into the hall by the hand. "Goodnight, John."


End file.
